


An Experiment in Olfaction

by crossroads



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A Study in Scents, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sherlock does Experiments, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and John is helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroads/pseuds/crossroads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Sherlock's website there's a little blog on the indentification of perfumes. Ever wondered about what it looks like, when he's about to update it? Well ... this is my idea of how it works ;)<br/>Set before S2E2 - Hound</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Experiment in Olfaction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there :)  
> .  
> This is my first attempt at writing so please be aware that I don't really know what I'm doing.  
> Mistakes are entirely my own, so please feel free to let me know if there's something wrong.  
> .  
> If you haven't been scared off already... Well, thank you and please enjoy!  
> Cx

 

\-------

John sighed. _Finally at home._

It had been a long, exhausting day at the surgery, and he already dreamed of chinese takeaway and his warm bed. But when he climbed up the 17 stairs, he froze instantly.  
A tight smell, impossible to relate, lingered on the first floor and the door to the flat was left ajar.

“Sherlock?” John called, nose buried in his elbow.

“John? May I borrow you?”

He followed the voice into the living room, where Sherlock sat on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, laptop balancing on his right thigh.

“What’s this smell?” John asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Sherlock made a waving gesture to the small bottles lining up on the coffee table in front of him, his eyes never leaving the screen. “I’m completing the ‘Analysis of Perfumes’, it’s on my website. If you’ve ever read it, you’d know.”

John rolled his eyes at him and took a tentative breath, just to cough and cover his nose and mouth again. “Couldn’t you’ve opened a window? If you haven’t noticed, you’re not able to breath properly without dying of asphyxiation. And why d’you have to do this in our flat anyway?”

He crossed the room and opened both windows wide, desperate for the fresh air, which was now flowing into the living room.

The Detective hummed in response, probably not listening.

John sighed but walked over to Sherlock nonetheless and settled into the seat to his left.  
“Well?” he asked tentatively.

Sherlock continued typing undisturbed for a few seconds, then saved the sheet and set the laptop to his side. He cleared his throat “For the analysis I’ve chosen altogether fourteen fragrances and prepared a paper strip for each bottle, in different colors for the handling. And now I’m taking notes on the smell and the mood they provide.”

John nodded thoughtfully “You are aware that this is not working all too well? You might not have considered an important factor.”

“And what might that be? I’ve done everything necessary,” he sniffed at the blue paper stripe and crinkled his nose at it. “Raspberry and Orange? Honestly, why would anyone want to smell like a fruit basket?” John giggled softly and Sherlock grinned at him.

“Maybe they want to look scrumptious?” he offered and Sherlock snorted. “But anyway, as I said; I don’t think that it will help you that much,” Sherlock watched him dismissively, one eyebrow raised. “‘cause every perfume smells different on each person.”

John smiled at the confused look on Sherlock’s face, but then the crease between his eyebrows vanished. “Ah, I see. Well, maybe it would be for the best if I...” he took the bottle with the blue paper stripe and sprayed it on his left wrist, then he looked at John holding out the flakon to him.

“Wait? What? No.” John said aversed.

Sherlock tsked his tongue. “And why ever not? It’s important for the experiment and _you_ said it could be helpful.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t say it like you’re astonished that _I_ told you something, which you considered important enough to pay actually attention to. And secondly: I don’t want to smell like a ‘fruit basket’ as you so vividly described.” He folded his arms over his chest.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his sulking form.

“And,” John continued “why can’t you do this experiment with masculine fragrances? Why all this Flowers and Fruits and Vanilla stuff?”

Sherlock groaned annoyed “Of course I do. I got fragrances for both genders. Look, I’d take the female fragrances and would leave the male scents to you, but then my experiment, as you have to admit, would be useless, ‘cause I need something to compare.”

John took a deep breath, then sighed beaten and hold out his left hand to Sherlock, who grinned at him and sprayed an amount of the sweet haze onto John’s inner wrist. He wrinkled his nose at it. _God_ , it was at least as horrible as it was on the paper strip. “Ok, this is disgusting. What else do we have, oh great _perfumer_?”

Sherlock smirked, choosing another bottle out of the line and took the paper strip as well. “This is one I was quite fond of,” he sniffed at it again and then hold it out to John, who was surprised by it’s soft musky smell and maybe some vanilla too.

“Ok, I agree with you on that one.” John nodded approvingly. To his right Sherlock rolled up his sleeve and sprayed the perfume onto his left elbow. “Um, what are you doing?” He frowned at him.

“Well, it seemed to be for the best, if we reserve the left side for female and the right for male fragrances.”

“Ah, ok...” John answered suspiciously, but unbuttoned and removed his shirt, since he was more comfortable with the t-shirt he wore underneath anyway.

They continued to arrange the perfumes according to their personal liking and chose one male fragrance each, which was now sprayed on wrist and elbow to the right.

“One last maybe?” Sherlock asked finally, and raised the phials they both liked most.

John shrugged. “Yeah, why not, I’m already feeling like a _potpourri_ anyway,” he sniffed on both paper strips again. “Where d’you want to put it this time?”

Sherlock looked at the flakons and then dropped his gaze to his feet.

“No.” John said tersely.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. “Oh come on, why not?”

“‘Why not?’ Seriously Sherlock, I won’t let you soak my ankles with perfume!” He scowled at him.

Sherlock groaned annoyed, twiddling with the small bottles in his graceful hands. Both remained silent for a few moments, glaring at each other. And then Sherlock’s gaze slid to John’s throat.

“No.” he said alarmed.

A look of genuine confusion splayed on Sherlock’s face. “But --”

“Because, Sherlock, that’s why. And normally one wouldn’t let one’s flatmate prepare one's throat with perfume to help him do ridiculous experiments, and,” he flinched slightly, hoping Sherlock wouldn’t notice, “it’s not decent.”

“Who cares about decent?” Sherlock’s lips twitched in amusement ( _of course he’d noticed, damn him_ ). “Nobody’s here anyway. Why bother?”

John pursed his lips. “So what’s the _quid pro quo_ , then?”

“Why d’you think, you’d get anything in return?” Sherlock frowned at him.

“I don’t know. You could at least try to be cooperative.”

Sherlock scowled at him. “You want me to stop smoking for such a trifle?”

“What? Who said anything about --? Oh for --, all right, forget it. If the completion of this shit will bring you to order some takeaway and occasionally eat something, then go on with it.”

Sherlock grinned like a Cheshire Cat and John sighed. Last notes were taken in a separate sheet and the Laptop once more abandoned.

“All right.” Sherlock leaped to his feet and walked around the coffee table, then raised his eyebrows at John, who groaned annoyed but also stand up to join him now in the middle of the living room.

“So we’ll start with the female fragrances.” He hold out his hand and John rolled his eyes at him, but gave his arm to him nonetheless. Sherlock took hold of John’s forearm and sniffed at the inner wrist. In the meantime John looked the other way, at anything but him, because _damn_ , this _was awkward_.

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully and took a smell at his own wrist. “Ok, still not the best scent in the world, and equally horrible.” He shuddered and looked pointedly at John: _See? It wasn’t necessary for us to do this_. John sent him an eyeroll in response.

Now Sherlock grasped John’s other arm. The same procedure was repeated , including the teasing and an annoyed gesture. “So the male scent is a large improvement, this was the one you chose, but...” there he frowned, “in reconsideration, it really smells different”

John grinned victorious. _Ha! See!_

Sherlock was mumbling to himself and fetched the laptop where he’d left it. He tipped his results, god knows what this might be, into the separated excel sheets, while John stood sheepishly in the mid room.

Eventually Sherlock got everything sorted and came to stand in front of John once more. This time he didn’t ask for permission but seized John’s left arm again, taking another step forward. They were now standing a bit too close for John’s taste. He didn’t say anything though, not wanting to let Sherlock know that his nearness made him feel uncomfortable.

So when Sherlock accidentally brushed the sensible flesh of John’s inner elbow with his lips, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Sorry,” Sherlock mumbled when he pulled back. Slowly he reached for the right arm and although he made sure not to touch him otherwise this time, John could still feel warm breath caressing his skin. His eyes were fixed on the bookshelf, his mind currently occupied with the effort of not thinking. At all.

When Sherlock let go of him this time, his movements weren’t as graceful and controlled as usual, but woodenly, uncertain. He didn’t even make a comment on the scent, only nodded thoughtfully. _Probably he was filling the sheet in his head. Or maybe not. Was this even about the experiment anymore?_ John’s mind was whirling with different settings, so he did another small start when Sherlock suddenly said something.

_Jesus, Watson. Calm down._

“Sorry, what?” John enquired numbly.

A smile tugged at Sherlock’s lips. “I said, that the male fragrance you’ve chosen was the best so far, but maybe …,” he trailed off and swept his gaze once again to the nape of John’s neck. “Maybe the scent we both considered the best would smell even … better.” This last bit was spoken in an even lower baritone than usual, almost sounding like a purr. And although John’s stomach did a little backflip, he somehow found the strength to only nod non-committally.

Their gaze met once again and now it was Sherlock’s turn to nod. Another few seconds passed and the initial reason they stood there in their livingroom came to him once again. He stepped in close, his eyes on John’s.

In slow motion his dark curled head dropped down, pausing as if asking for something. John swallowed thickly and tipped his head slightly to the side. When Sherlock resumed the movement again, John closed his eyes, absorbing the feel of it all. The warmth of their bodies so close, the way Sherlock’s hair tickled his jawline, his warm breath on sensible flesh, the heat of his hand which had appeared out of nowhere on his biceps, tracing lazy circles on the naked skin of his upper arm ... John didn’t even dare to breath, afraid that every inhale would break this moment.

Whatever _this moment was._

Neither of them looked at the other when Sherlock finally broke away. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I’m not sure which scent would be better for you, they smell both equally, um... good.” He told his feet, since he didn’t look John in the eyes.

“So...? We need another opinion?” John’s hand came up to rub his neck, as if he wanted to keep the invisible trace Sherlock’s breath had left right above his vein.

“Would be for the best, I guess.” Sherlock lifted his gaze eventually, revealing slightly dilated pupils, his eyes a whirlwind of confusion and curiosity.

John found himself speechless for a moment, oddly captivated by this unexpected sight.  
 _Good Lord, what the hell?_ Since when exactly did he find his mad _male_ flatmate so strangely appealing? John swallowed once again, and banned the thought into the last corner of his mind. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t. Instead he licked his lips unknowingly.

“Or...,” Sherlock continued tentatively “we could have another go...?”

John could almost drown in the wide blown pupils of Sherlock’s eyes. He nodded slowly, since he still didn’t trust himself to say anything without his voice giving him away. The thought he’d banned a few seconds ago was still lurking in his mind. They both stared at each other, daring the other to move first.

 _Jesus_ , this was ridiculous. Every second now Sherlock would back away, and things would go back to the way they’d always --

A sudden shiver ran down John’s spine when Sherlock reached out a hand to stroke the nape of John’s neck. Sherlock was now staring at his lips unashamed and John’s mind shut down completely.

_Ohgodohgodohgod..._

For a brief second Sherlock focused on John’s gaze again. _A warning? Asking for permission?_   Then he leaned in once again and on their own accord John’s eyes fell shut, his heartbeat a distant thumping in his ears ...

Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door and Mrs Hudson entered the kitchen accompanied by the cheerful “Yoo hoo!” as always.

Both men jumped apart, like young Teens caught snogging. _Or not exactly at least_. Shopping bags, probably from Tesco’s, were dropped onto the kitchen table and Mrs. Hudson was talking in a blur of words of which John couldn’t make any sense of.

“... unbelievable! But Boys seriously, what’s this smell --” She rounded the table to gaze into the living room, to find them both standing still too close and with presumably flushed cheeks. And, _god_ , what was shown on their faces? “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?”

John let out a deep breath which he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. Both remained silent for another moment and then eventually John started to giggle. He just couldn’t help it. The apologetic look on the older Lady’s face was too much. “Not at all, Mrs. H. Just an experiment in olfaction.” Smiling, he crossed the room to take her elbow, “You haven’t by any chance bought some biscuits?”

Sherlock followed them with his eyes and sighed. _Alleviation or disappointment?_ He shook his head, shook off all feelings really, and sprawled himself onto the sofa. He lay there thoughtfully for a few seconds while the smalltalk in the kitchen continued with muffled voices.

Slowly Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and dove into his Mind Palace. The smell, which was now radiating from six different places, made him dizzy. It was almost too much to bear, but on the other hand: tonight he would smell just like John. A smug grin widened on his lips.

_Not all that bad, was it?_


End file.
